


To repair the things that have been broken

by BecauseImClassy



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Arguing, F/M, Kissing, Porn with Feelings, Reconciliation Sex, Shameless Smut, adventures in journalism, collaborating, secret meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-05-31 09:03:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6464170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecauseImClassy/pseuds/BecauseImClassy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post season 2. Karen works with Daredevil on a story, and starts to come to terms with recent events.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Post season 2. I wanted to give Karen a chance to spend some time with Daredevil, and start to get to know that side of Matt. Don't expect too much about the story they're working on; it's just an excuse to get the two of them talking. There will be smut, but not until chapter 2.
> 
> Title is from "The Dream Before," by Laurie Anderson.

“Miss Page?” The voice on Karen’s phone is as familiar as it is unexpected. But why would Matt call her Miss Page? And why is he calling her at all? She told him she needs time to think about the truth he finally told her about himself, and to think through everything that’s happened between them in light of that truth. Knowing that Matt is Daredevil explains a lot, but it’s not enough, not yet, to erase the hurt he’s caused her.

The voice on the phone doesn’t wait for her to reply. “Miss Page, I think you know who this is. I’m sorry to bother you, but I have information that ought to be made public. You may know I gave information to Ben Urich, when he was working on the Fisk story.”

Yes, of course she knows that. But she gets the point. This is Daredevil, contacting a reporter he trusts, not Matt Murdock calling his ex-barely-even-had-time-to-be-girlfriend.

“Okay. What have you got?”

“I hope to have more after tonight. I thought I’d better call ahead, I wasn’t sure if you’d want to talk to me.” There’s a brief silence, but she has nothing to say to that. “Will you meet me tomorrow? I’ll tell you what I find out.”

“All right. When, and where?” They agree on the details and hang up.

This is a development Karen wasn’t expecting—a chance to see and talk to Daredevil. This is the part of himself that Matt’s always kept hidden from her, and she wants to see it. Even though she doesn’t want to talk to Matt, himself. Talking to Daredevil isn’t the same, somehow. 

_I hope to have more after tonight._ That means he’s going out tonight, putting himself in danger. Almost against her will, she finds herself worrying about his safety, hoping he won’t be hurt. _He doesn’t need your worry. He can take care of himself._ And yet…she remembers how badly injured he was after his so-called car accident last year. Most of the time he seems to just collect scrapes and bruises, but sometimes it’s much worse than that. He’s not indestructible. And however unsure she is of her feelings toward him, she’s very sure she doesn’t want him broken, bleeding, helpless… _Stop it. He’ll be fine._ She pulls herself together and goes back to work.

The next night when she arrives at their appointment, he’s there before her. She doesn’t see him at first, but he steps out of the shadows as she approaches.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” There’s an awkward pause, then Karen pulls out her notebook.

“So, what’s this about?”

“Adam Whitney, the developer. I think he’s taking a page out of Wilson Fisk’s book, financing his construction projects with drug money…”

Karen takes notes while he talks, but she’s also looking him over, trying not to be obvious about it. She doesn’t see any signs of injury, but that’s not saying much when the only part of him not covered in armor is the lower half of his face. He moves easily, not as if any parts of him are sore. He moves very easily, in fact. Everything about his physical presence is different from the Matt she knows. She knows now about his heightened senses, and she’s seen him fight, she knows what he can do. But it’s disconcerting to see him do ordinary things, like walking, with such assurance. Just how much is he holding himself back during the day, pretending to be an ordinary blind man?

She drags her thoughts back to the business at hand. “Whitney is much more in the public eye than Fisk was,” she says. “He’s flashy, he’s confident. Maybe over-confident.”

Daredevil nods. “If he’s over-confident, he’ll make mistakes sooner or later.”

“I’ll see what I can find out about his finances. We need to know how much of his business is legitimate, and how much is criminal.”

“I don’t know yet how deep his involvement in the drug trade goes, just that he is involved. I’ve got a few more leads to follow up.”

“Let me know what you find out. I’ll follow the money, establish a paper trail for as much of it as I can. My editor isn’t going to touch this without corroboration.”

“Of course.” He smiles, and her heart unexpectedly skips a beat. She hadn’t realized just how much she missed that smile. “I’ll call you when I have something.” He hesitates. “We could meet during the day next time. It might be safer.”

“No.” She sounds sharper than she meant to, but she’s not ready yet to let Matt Murdock back into her life. Working on a story with Daredevil is different than working with Matt would be. “This is safe enough, isn’t it? You’d know if there were anyone else around.”

He sighs and concedes the point. “All right, Miss Page. We’ll talk again soon.” She gets the feeling he’s acknowledging what she hasn’t said, as much as what she has.

—————————————————————————

As it turns out, she calls him first.

“Hello? This is Miss Page, from the Bulletin. I’ve found out something that may interest you. When can we meet?”

“How about tonight?”

“Sure. Same time, same place?”

“All right. I’ll see you then.”

It’s a little less awkward this time, they’re both a little more comfortable with each other. Karen’s found an old contract between Adam Whitney and a shipping business, currently under investigation for transporting contraband.

“He doesn’t appear to have any connection to them now, but he definitely did a few years ago. If we could prove he still works with them—”

“It could be just the break we need. I’ll ask around. I know a few people who might know something.” He pauses, looking at her. Or no, not _looking_ at her. It’s disorienting, just how easy it is to forget that Daredevil is a blind man. “Thank you,” he says. “Thank you for telling me.”

“You’re welcome. Breaking this thing open is going to take both of us, we need to work together.”

“You and me, working together?” He smiles, but it’s not entirely a happy smile. “You’re more comfortable talking to me, aren’t you? Me, Daredevil, rather than…that’s why you want to keep meeting at night.”

“Yes. I thought about it after last time. This may not make much sense. But I feel like you, Daredevil, aren’t the one who hurt me. You’re not the one who lied to me. The times I met you before, I wouldn’t expect a masked vigilante to tell me who he really is. That secrecy, it makes more sense coming from you than from a man I thought I knew, that I thought trusted me…” She presses her lips shut on her anger. “And this is the part of you you’ve always hidden from me. I want to know this side of you, now that you’re finally giving me the chance. I need to know who you are.”

He nods, his face turned a little away from her. “All right then, Miss Page. We work together, and we will bring this guy down.” He raises one hand toward her, then stops himself. She reaches out and takes his hand, clasping it like they’re sealing a bargain. Then she quickly lets go, turns and walks away.

—————————————————————————

They meet again a few nights later to compare notes. They talk more easily together now, pleased with the progress of their investigations, but also pleased to be able to tell each other about the work they’ve done. Karen’s proud of the evidence she’s unearthed, and finds she enjoys confiding in him about the difficulties she’s faced.

But she’s reminded that this isn’t a social occasion when Daredevil suddenly lifts his head like a dog catching a scent, and puts a gloved finger gently on her lips. She freezes, trying to breathe silently, while he cocks his head, listening. Suddenly he presses her back against the wall, into the shadows, and places himself in front of her, body poised for action. Straining her ears, she hears footsteps, distant voices, coming closer. She’s not sure how many of them there are, but it’s definitely not just one or two.

She can’t make out what they’re saying, but she can feel the tension coming off the man in front of her and tenses, herself, her heart pounding. They wait, listening, for what seems like ages, as the men come closer, closer…and then, still out of sight, they grow fainter, moving away. Daredevil relaxes slightly, but remains on guard for several more minutes, before he finally turns back to face her and steps back.

“You need to leave. Now.”

“Who were they?”

“There’s a new group trying to take over the human trafficking ring the Russians used to run. I wasn’t expecting them here, though. They must be expanding their range. Come on, you need to get away from here.” She bristles at his commanding tone, but walks ahead of him away from the docks, back toward more populated streets.

Once they reach safety, he tuns toward her and grips her arm. “We can’t keep meeting like this, it’s not safe. If those men had seen you—“

“But they didn’t—“

“It’s too great a risk. It ends now, I’m not going to let you keep putting yourself in danger.”

She shakes off his hand and glares at him. “I can take care of myself.”

“Against how many?” Judging by the set of his jaw, he’s glaring right back. “How many armed men do you seriously think you can defend yourself against?” Okay, maybe he’s got a point. But his angry, dismissive tone is putting her back up. “If it came to a fight,” he continues, “I would protect you. But there’s no need—“

“You don’t—“

“Listen to me—“

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

“I will tell you what to do, if you’re being stupidly reckless!”

“Oh, that’s great, coming from you!”

“—And I will protect you, as well as I can. I know you’re not mine to protect, you don’t need to remind me. But I will anyway.” How does he manage to look so stubborn, with so little of his face showing?

“This is not about whether or not I’m yours. There’s a difference between protecting someone and controlling them, and that’s a line you damn well need to stay on the right side of. What risks I’m willing to take, that’s not up to you. It isn’t your choice to make.”

“But this, meeting at night like this, it’s a completely unnecessary risk. We could easily meet and discuss this story during the day. But you won’t, because…” he sighs in frustration. “…because I fucked up. I hid from you, and shut you out, and hurt you, and now you’ll only talk to me if I’m wearing this damn mask.” He presses his lips together tightly, and breathes deeply. “It’s my fault you’re taking this risk. I fucked up, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

Her own anger deflates slightly. “You fix it by letting me in. You fix it by trusting my judgement.”

“When you won’t let me in? When you won’t trust my judgement?”

“Your judgement? You want to talk about your judgement?”

“Believe it or not, Miss Page, I can make an accurate threat assessment. More accurate than you can. If you’re determined to take risks, take them when it matters, when there’s no other way. Not because you’re angry at me, and you’re _stubborn._ Are you really so determined to avoid me that you’d rather put yourself in the way of being kidnapped and sold to the highest bidder than talk to me by daylight?”

And there’s no good answer to that. She frowns in annoyance, unwilling to admit he’s right.

“You are infuriating,” she tells him.

“So are you.” For an instant, she thinks she sees the ghost of a smile cross his face. But in the shadows it’s hard to be sure. She shakes her head—at him? at herself? and walks away.

—————————————————————————

She sees him again, completely unexpectedly, just two nights later. She’s managed to track down a former secretary of Adam Whitney, who also turns out to be a former mistress, and very bitter about the “former”. She knows some fascinating details about his business dealings and is willing to talk, and Karen had gone to a depressed-looking, run-down neighborhood to interview her. Now on her way home, she hears the sounds of fighting up ahead, and drops back against the nearest wall.

Carefully, quietly, she peers around a corner into the alley and sees Daredevil, taking on several men at once. She looks up and down the street nervously, feeling exposed, wondering if any more are on their way to join in. There’s a dumpster near the mouth of the alley, and she slides behind it, peeking out to watch the brawl.

It’s the first time she’s seen him fight since learning that he’s Matt, and it’s surprisingly hard to watch. Every time he takes a hit she winces, and wonders what she can possibly do to help if he gets badly hurt. But there’s a brutal grace to his movements, a competent efficiency to his violence, and she can’t tear her eyes away. He’s amazing.

She can feel her heart going like a jackhammer, and once Daredevil is the only man left standing, she’s not surprised when he cocks his head and then turns toward the dumpster. She straightens up and walks toward him.

“It’s me, it’s me.” She can practically feel the anger rolling off him as he recognizes her, so she rushes on before he can speak. “I wasn’t looking for trouble, I swear, I was just on my way home. Sometimes I really am just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I heard the fighting when I got close, so I stayed the hell out of the way and hid.”

The grim set to his jaw relaxes slightly, and he nods, breathing hard. She reaches out to touch his shoulder. “Are you hurt?”

He shakes his head. “I’m fine, I—“ he stops and lifts his head sharply, listening. He curses under his breath. “There’s more coming, from several different directions. Come on.” He takes her by the arm and quickly leads her deeper into the alley, and she thinks how strange it is to have _him_ leading _her._

They stop under a fire escape. “They’ll be here any minute. Go up, all the way to the roof, You’ll be safe there.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be right behind, you, I promise. Just _go.”_ He boosts her up to the bottom of the fire escape, and she swings herself up and starts up the stairs. A few moments later she hears fighting below her and for a second she freezes. But she knows she has to keep going, she’s a sitting duck if any of the men down there have guns, and happen to look up. She moves as quietly as she can, glad she’s dressed sensibly in jeans and sneakers.

When she’s almost at the top, the metal under her feet vibrates from an impact, and she looks down, her heart in her mouth. But it’s all right, it’s Daredevil, he’s leaped up to grab the fire escape and is climbing rapidly. On the ground, a collection of figures lie still. She scrambles up onto the roof and watches him. He doesn’t even bother with the steps, just leaps and swings up the metal framework like a gymnast.

He vaults neatly over the edge of the roof and lands beside her, grinning. He loves this, she realizes, and tries to imagine what it must be like for him to move freely, to push his body to its full capability, after spending his days holding back and limiting himself.

She smiles back and asks, “Now what?”

He leads her away from the edge and turns his head this way and that, listening. She looks around, taking in the view from this new vantage. She sees rooftops, the walls of taller buildings, and above them a much wider expanse of sky than what’s visible at street level. It’s dark, the lights of the city mostly below them, and cold. It’s strange, and beautiful, and she tips her head back and laughs, flinging her arms wide and breathing in the cold wind.

At his questioning look, she laughs again. “I’ve never seen the city like this. Up here, above everything, it’s so different. I like it.”

“So do I.” He smiles, and she smiles back, enjoying this small moment of shared happiness. But then he continues, “We should get farther away from here if we can, there are still a lot of very dangerous people down there.”

“We’re on the roof, how are we going to…?”

He leads the way across to the other side of the roof. The buildings huddle close together here, there’s not more than a few feet between their rooftop and the next. She stares at him. “Oh my god. You mean. Jump?” He grins again, he looks like he’s daring her. Except he’s so overprotective, she’s suddenly sure he wouldn’t ask her to do it if he wasn’t certain she could. She eyes the gap carefully. With a running start….

“Okay. Let’s do it.” She walks briskly back from the edge. He follows, and as they turn to face the edge, he holds out his hand. She grips it tightly, her mouth suddenly dry, but then lets go. “Don’t hold on, we might throw off each other’s stride. We’ll be better off separate.”

He nods. “You’re right. But I’ll be right beside you.”

“Okay.” She tenses. “Ready, set, GO!” They run for the edge and leap, side by side. Karen keeps her eyes forward as they cross the gap, resisting the urge to look down. The landing jars her ankles, and she falls forward to her hands and knees, but she’s back on her feet in the next second.

“Keep going,” he urges beside her, so she does, adrenaline charging through her. He matches his pace to hers and they sprint across the roof together, and jump again. This time she manages to stay on her feet when they land.

They both pause to catch their breath. Karen feels alive, reckless and giddy with excitement. She steps in close to the man beside her, and without stopping to think she cups his face between her hands and kisses him.

For an instant he freezes, startled. But then he’s kissing back, lips parting, one arm sliding around her hips to pull her closer. This isn’t like any of the times she’s kissed Matt before. There’s a wild intensity to it, both of them still breathless, tongues sliding over each other urgently, bodies pressed hotly together. She reaches up to run a hand through his hair, but feels only the hard smoothness of his helmet, a jarring discord. He strokes her face with one hand, but his glove feels cold and alien against her cheek. She runs her hands over his shoulders, down his back, but feels only the strange, unyielding firmness of body armor. His mask presses hard against her face. It’s disquieting, overwhelming, and she breaks away from him with a gasp. He leans after her, but she puts both hands on his chest and pushes him away.

He drops his hands and steps back. “Oh my god. Karen, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—that was—“

She shakes her head. “No, Matt, you don’t need to—I started it.”

“I could have stopped you.”

“I didn’t want you to stop me.” She pauses, getting control of her breathing. “It was—I—I liked it at first, that was….But then I couldn’t touch you, not really, there was just armor everywhere, and suddenly…you felt like a stranger, and I just, I needed to stop.”

He’s nodding in understanding. “I felt that too, that I couldn’t touch you properly. This suit, it’s made for fighting, not…” He sighs. “I was afraid I’d come on too strong, that I was pushing you.”

“No, no, it wasn’t that.” She clears her throat, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “I’d, ah, I’d be lying if I said I’d never wondered what it would be like to kiss Daredevil. Before I knew he was you. And now I know. That was…kind of amazing.”

“Oh, that had nothing to do with being Daredevil.”

“It didn’t?”

“No.” He smiles a little and ducks his head, like maybe now he’s feeling self-conscious. “That was just…spontaneous combustion. I’d kiss you like that in my street clothes, if you’d let me.”

She can’t help imagining what that might be like, and feels a shiver that has nothing to do with the cold.

He reaches up and takes off his helmet. Even though she knows, it’s still a shock somehow to see Matt’s face behind Daredevil’s mask. He sets it on the ground, then strips off his gloves and puts them down, too. He steps forward, reaching out to touch her shoulder, then raises his hand to her face. He runs his fingers into her hair, stroking her cheek with his thumb. He leans toward her slowly, telegraphing his intent so she can pull away if she chooses. She stands still, her breath quickening.

This time when he kisses her, it’s soft, and gentle, and so sweet it nearly brings tears to her eyes. He reaches for her hand with his free hand, lacing their fingers together. His lips move over hers, warm and familiar, while she feels the strangeness of his suit under her other hand. And something clicks into place. Finally, she accepts the truth she’s been trying so hard to ignore, thinking she could get close to Daredevil while shutting Matt out. He’s both. He’s _both,_ always. Whichever one she thinks she’s dealing with, the other is there too, a part of him.

She breaks the kiss, but doesn’t push him away this time. She takes hold of both his hands and leans her forehead against his. “I have got to stop thinking of you as two separate people.”

He puffs out a breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “That’s what I tried to be, for the last year. It didn’t work out so well.”

She laughs too, and takes a step back so she can look at him. Daredevil. Matt. She reaches out to touch his face, then ruffles her fingers through his hair. He closes his eyes and leans slightly into her touch. She grips his shoulders, feeling the texture of his body armor, than runs her hands down his arms until she’s holding his hands again.

And suddenly, she finds she doesn’t want to shut Matt out anymore. Now that she’s spent time with Daredevil, she wants to spend time with Matt, as Matt, and find out what he’s like when he’s not pretending. Not masked, his face hidden from her. Not surrounded by danger, feeling like he needs to protect her. Just…being himself. 

“Matt,” she whispers, and he tips his head, silent, waiting. “I think—the next time we meet to talk about Adam Whitney, we should do it during the day.” Relief chases surprise across his face, and then he smiles and squeezes her hands.

“Yes, absolutely. Let’s do that.”

A gust of wind whistles over the roof, and they both shiver.

“How do you stay warm in that thing?” she asks.

“I keep moving, mostly.” He retrieves his gloves and helmet and puts them back on.

“Is it safe to go back down? I should get home.”

He turns his head, listening. “There’s still activity in the alley where you met me. But it’s quiet over here.” He crosses to this building’s fire escape, and listens again. “No one around. Go down, quietly.”

He goes down the same way he came up, and reaches the bottom before her. Then he leads the way between buildings, through unfamiliar alleys, stopping to listen at every corner. Finally they reach a relatively well-lit street, and Karen knows where she is again.

In the shadows of the alley, Matt hesitates. “I assume you don’t want me to see you home?”

“You assume correctly. But is there…can you pick up anything around here I should watch out for?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing particular, no. Just a typical night in Hell’s Kitchen.” He looks like he’s about to say more, but he changes his mind and presses his lips together.

She smiles. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”

He smiles too, relieved. “Good. Thank you.”

She looks back the way they came. “Are you going back?”

“Yes. There are a lot of very unpleasant people around that warehouse tonight, I need to find out what’s going on.”

“Well, you be careful too. I mean, you’ll do what you have to do, I know that. But just…come back in one piece, all right?”

“I will.” He smiles again, and touches her cheek gently with his fingertips.

“Okay. Good.” She squeezes his hand for a moment, then steps away. “I’ll see you around, Daredevil.”

“I’ll see you around, Miss Page.” He grins, and disappears back into the shadows. Karen steps out onto the street, and heads for home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time sex that's also make-up sex? DON'T MIND IF I DO. This chapter is mostly shameless smut. With feelings, and some exposition and stuff at the beginning to set things up.

The first time Karen comes over to Matt’s place to discuss the Whitney story, it’s awkward. Both of them are nervous, uncomfortable, the ease of their previous meetings buried under the weight of unresolved issues. They’re both polite, and professional, and she doesn’t stay any longer than necessary. But it gets easier. Gradually, Karen relaxes more around him. Gradually, she stays longer, and more personal items creep into their talk.

Matt enjoys the freedom of finally being able to be with her without pretending to be more disabled than he actually is. As long as they meet at his apartment, or hers, where there’s no one else to see, he doesn’t have to hold himself back any more. He can move around the space freely, without the show of feeling his way by the furniture; he can react to the expressions he can’t see on her face, but can guess at from a multitude of more subtle cues.

Karen finds it fascinating. It’s like getting to know him all over again, with new layers added. The man she knew before wasn’t a lie, he’s still there. It just wasn’t the whole truth. Now the gaps are being filled in, and a picture of the whole man is slowly emerging.

Matt has one burning question that he doesn’t dare ask. The kisses they shared on the windy roof hang over them, unspoken, like the ghost of a doomed love affair. He hopes that it isn’t doomed, that the ghost can be revived, but they never speak of it. He’s careful not to push, to let her take the lead on how long she stays, on how personal the conversation is allowed to get. He makes sure to sit a little further away from her than he’d like to, overruling any impulses to touch her. He tries not to hope too much, tries to tell himself that even regaining her friendship is more than he deserves. But hope refuses to be denied.

Karen notices the small movements toward her, begun and then repressed. Notices when he presses his lips together over things he wants to say. She hasn’t forgotten their kisses, but at first she simply doesn’t know what she wants. It’s easier to avoid the issue and just focus on their work. But as she grows more comfortable with him, and increasingly looks forward to the time they spend together, she starts to miss the casual contact they used to enjoy. She starts to sit a little closer, nudging his shoulder with hers, sometimes even lifting his hand to her face briefly so he can feel it when she smiles. She doesn’t miss the anxious eagerness in his face, quickly hidden. She can see clearly how he feels, and knows that he’s trying to conceal it, leaving the question of restarting their relationship entirely up to her.

And one evening, she’s ready. They’re at Matt’s place again, and she’s stayed for dinner. Now they’re in the kitchen cleaning up, neither of them wanting the evening to be over yet. As she looks at him standing beside her, laughing at something she said, she’s suddenly filled with happiness, and certainty. This. This is what she wants.

She takes his hand and holds it to her face, smiling, then turns her head slightly and kisses his palm. His breath catches, and she watches him struggle to control his feelings, to hide the hope in his eyes. She rubs her cheek against his hand, then kisses the inside of his wrist. Her heart is beating faster, she knows he can hear it.

She steps closer, raising her hand to his face and stroking the soft skin just in front of his ear. He closes his eyes and whispers “Karen,” his hand sliding into her hair. She touches her forehead to his, then leans in and kisses him.

It starts out slow, and soft, their arms tentatively going around each other, their hands gentle. But soon their lips are parting, tongues probing softly, hands trembling as they touch each other less hesitantly, beginning to caress and explore. Matt tries to hold himself back, afraid of ruining everything by going too fast, but Karen presses against him eagerly. She slides one hand up under his shirt to stroke the skin of his back. Her other hand cups his face while her lips leave his to kiss along the line of his jaw, the tip of her tongue flicking over his skin. He moans quietly, taking her thumb between his teeth and running his tongue over the pad, her breath hot against his neck.

He pulls back to ask, “Karen, are you sure?”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure.” She nods her head, kissing him between words for emphasis. “And Matt?” She brings her lips to his ear and whispers, “Don’t hold back. We can go slow next time.” She sucks his earlobe into her mouth and he moans again, and laughs, and slides his hands down past her waist, to cup the curves of her ass and press her against his swelling erection. She tilts her hips and grinds against him, letting out a breathless moan of her own as he re-captures her lips with his. Her tongue slides into his mouth, and he sucks it in further. His hands move back up her body to her breasts, stroking urgently, and she gasps and shudders.

She tugs up on the hem of his shirt, and he takes his hands off her long enough to pull it off over his head, while she runs her hands over his body. She sees the scars on his chest, his arms, his stomach, and traces all the ones she can reach with her lips and her tongue.

He reaches for the buttons of her shirt, his hands shaking with the need to touch her skin. He noses into the hollow behind her ear, kissing her neck, distracted by the smell of her, grapefruit and jasmine and desire. Her hair is silk against his cheek, her skin is satin flushed with warmth under his lips. Her heartbeat thunders in his ears, her breathing hot and uneven in the air between them.

As her shirt comes open, button by button, he kisses his way down her throat, along her collarbones, bending to kiss the tops of her breasts where the edge of her bra cups leaves them exposed. She shivers, stroking his shoulders, feeling the faint lines of more scars. When the last button parts, he slides the fabric down her arms, and she lets the shirt fall to the floor. His hands move up her back, caressing the softness of her skin and pressing her close to him.

He feels for the clasp of her bra and unhooks it, and she slips it off. She tips his face up so she can get her mouth back on his, kissing him deeply as he brings his hands around to cup her bare breasts. His thumbs ghost over her nipples, feather-light, and she shudders again, gasping into his mouth.

“Bedroom?” he suggests against her lips.

“ _Yes_ , bedroom,” she agrees.

She looks at him as they cross the living area, and god, he’s gorgeous. Now that she’s finally seeing him shirtless, she can see he’s got the body of a Greek statue. The scars temper her lust a little, knowing how he must have gotten them, but not much. And right now his eyes are hot and glowing, his cheeks flushed, his lips red and full. He’s so sexy it’s indecent.

Once they’re in the bedroom, she presses up close to him and rocks her hips against his, rubbing against the bulge in his jeans and making them both moan. She undoes his fly and slips her hand down the back of his waistband, squeezing his ass. He holds her hips, grinding against her, kissing her hungrily. He slides a hand between her legs, and she jumps and quivers. She runs her own hand over his erection, gripping and stroking, and he groans.

Quickly, they both shuck off the rest of their clothes and crawl naked onto the bed. Karen sighs at the cool touch of silk sheets on her heated skin, and lies back, stretching out and reaching for Matt. He kisses her, fondling a breast with one hand, then shifts down, again kissing his way down along her neck, her chest, until he takes a nipple into his mouth.

She inhales sharply, arching toward him, her fingers in his hair, as he sucks at her nipple, running his tongue over the hard little peak. He reaches a hand down between her legs and strokes her inner thigh, and she opens her legs. He feels his way gently then, running his fingers softly over her flesh, the smell of her arousal increasing and making him even harder. He slides a finger along her slit, probing her slick opening, and strokes along her labia, making her gasp and writhe. He circles around her clit, and she moans out his name.

Carefully, intently, he maps out the small, intimate landscape. He listens to every small sound, every catch in her breath, to learn where she’s most sensitive and how she likes to be touched. And how she doesn’t—once he gets an “Ow, no,” and whispers “sorry” against her breast. But it seems she likes nearly everything else he’s doing.

Karen grips the bedsheets tightly, trying to hold herself still while Matt drives her wild, stroking and pressing, kissing her breast and teasing the nipple with his tongue. Her breathing quickens as her tension mounts, until finally she gasps out “Yes, there, god, _don’t stop_ —“ and orgasm rolls through her like a tidal wave, her hips bucking against his hand.

Almost before she’s finished, she slips her arms around his shoulders. “Matt,” she pants, low and urgent, “Please tell me you have condoms.”

He grins and slides up her body to kiss her, one hand reaching toward the drawer of his bedside table. “Oh, thank _god._ I want you inside me, Matt, now.” He’s more than happy to oblige, his cock rigid and straining for release. He rolls on a condom, and Karen gets a leg underneath him and takes him in her hand. He settles between her legs, and takes a quick, shallow breath as she rubs the head of his cock along the length of her slit. She lines him up and he slides in, all the way, drawing a throaty groan out of her.

For a moment he lies still, fighting for enough control not to come right then and there. He breathes her name, and her muscles twitch around him, turning it into a moan. He pulls back and begins thrusting, slow and deep, overwhelmed by sensation but still attuned to Karen’s responses. When she hitches her legs up and hooks one heel over the small of his back, he adjusts his angle; when she begins gasping, short and quick, and mutters “come on,” he picks up the pace. Before long he’s riding her hard and fast, her panting cries driving him on, until he throws back his head and comes with a growl that’s about the sexiest thing Karen’s ever heard.

He collapses on top of her and they lie still, catching their breaths. Matt tucks his face into the curve of her neck. She strokes his hair with one hand. After a minute he raises up enough to find her lips and kisses her, slow and leisurely. Then he slides out of her and rolls onto his back to peel off the condom. Karen extends her arms and legs into a satisfied, bone-popping stretch, arching her back and groaning. Matt’s quick to take advantage, slipping one arm under her back and reaching over with the other hand to cup a breast. She laughs and settles against him, her arms going around his neck. They lie together quietly. She strokes his arm, he caresses her hip, softly, without urgency.

“So,” Matt asks, not wanting to break the mood, but needing to know. “Does this mean we’re…?”

Karen’s startled for a moment, but really, all things considered, it’s good that he’s not taking anything for granted. “Yes,” she answers, running her fingers through his hair and leaning in to smile against his cheek. “We are, definitely.”

“Thank you,” he whispers, and smiles back, feeling a profound happiness that’s tempered only by the thought that he probably doesn’t deserve it. But he’ll take it, he’ll take whatever she’s willing to give.

“I don’t know how it’s going to work,” he says quietly, “trying to combine a relationship with…everything else.” She points the index and pinky fingers of her free hand, making devil horns at him. He snorts and grabs her hand, kissing her fingertips one by one. “But I’m going to try. I really, really want this to work, Karen.”

“So do I. And if we both want it, we can figure it out. But no more lies, Matt.” She’s quiet too, and suddenly very serious.

He nods. “No, I know. I’m through shutting you out, I was through with that the day I told you the truth.” His determination to be honest with her now compels him to add, “But I can’t promise I won’t mess up some other way.” He looks anxious, but she strokes his cheek and smiles.

“No one can ever promise they won’t make any mistakes. But if we both try to learn from our mistakes and not keep making the same ones, and if we _talk_ to each other instead of hiding, then I think we’ve got as good a chance as anyone ever does.”

“I promise.”

“Me too.” She briefly thinks of her own secrets, and realizes she may have just committed herself to telling him everything. But not now. Not tonight. Tonight, she kisses him, and he leans into the kiss, pressing his body softly against hers, rubbing her back and swinging one leg on top of hers, so he’s wrapped around her. And Karen feels happy, feels like she _belongs_ here, no matter how weird Matt’s life may be.

“So, you’re a cuddler?” she asks lightly.

“Yes, I am,” he says decisively. “You feel amazing, all soft and naked…I can’t imagine _not_ wanting to cuddle.” He hugs her, running his hand up her arm and into her hair, and begins kissing her cheeks, her eyes, the tip of her nose, her forehead. “Is that all right with you?” he asks against her hairline, kissing his way down to her ear.

“Mmmmm, yes, definitely.” She shifts her legs a little to snuggle more closely against him. “I’ve known too many guys who just wanted to roll over and go to sleep as soon as they came.”

Matt makes an indignant noise, and continues kissing her, a little less leisurely now, tracing delicately around her ear with his tongue. “So,” he breathes, warm against her skin, “about that ‘next time’ you mentioned…”

“Did I say that?” she asks, wriggling her hips and grinning when he gasps. “I did, didn’t I?” She stretches again, arching her body against him, and he nuzzles into her neck and runs his hand all the way down her spine to her ass. She untangles their legs and bends one knee, bringing her leg up where he can reach it, and he obligingly strokes the back of her thigh, her knee, down her calf to the ankle, and back up again.

“Oh, I like that,” she whispers, and runs her own hands over his back, his arms, as much of him as she can reach. They’re both feeling relaxed and lazy, they take their time, exploring each other slowly. Touching, kissing, finding sensitive spots, learning each other’s bodies. But soon the laziness is burned away by increasing heat, and they begin to move against each other more urgently, kissing open-mouthed, rolling their hips together and moaning.

Matt slides down far enough to get his mouth on a breast, but this time he doesn’t touch her nipple—instead, he kisses his way around the lower curve, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin. He strokes her other breast with his fingers, tracing circles around the nipple but not touching it. She breathes shallowly, gripping his shoulder. He blows out a breath across her nipple, and she shivers. He continues kissing and stroking around the edges of her breasts, coming closer and closer to the center until she’s writhing under him and gasping. When he finally closes his lips around one nipple, while his fingers find the other, she lets out a filthy groan and rocks her hips against his stomach.

He smiles against her skin and slides down lower, kissing his way down her stomach, running the tip of his tongue around her navel. Then lower still, sucking a series of wet kisses below her hipbone. She opens her legs to him, and he he kisses down the crease of her thigh. Pausing for a moment, he uses his fingers to spread her open, and get his bearings. Then he slides a finger inside her, to her moan of approval, and begins running his tongue over her flesh. He traces every fold of skin, licking and sucking.

He feels surrounded, enveloped by sex. Karen’s scent hangs heavy in the air, the taste of her, tinged with latex, salty on his tongue. Her small breathless sounds, her racing heartbeat, fill his ears, and her soft flesh is all around him, under his hands, his lips, his tongue. He sucks gently at her clit, feeling her quiver as her breath catches. He runs his tongue all along her folds again, then sucks her labia into his mouth, tugging gently. Her breath comes in groaning gasps, he can feel how close she is, and he slips a second finger inside to stroke her firmly as she tips over the edge with a cry, her muscles spasming around his fingers.

“Oh, Matt,” she whispers, sounding dazed. Her fingers are back in his hair, running over his scalp in a way that, in his fully aroused state, makes him groan with need. She tugs gently, and he moves back up the bed, wiping his mouth on the sheet. She sits up, reaching for a condom, but after she hands it to him she takes him by the shoulders and presses him down onto his back.

She straddles his thighs while he rolls on the condom, then leans down, her breasts brushing his chest, to kiss him. He moans as her tongue slides into his mouth, and he grips her ass, his hips trying to raise up toward her.

She sits back and reaches down, but surprises him, reaching below his cock to stroke his balls. He gasps, and Karen drinks in the sight of him, face flushed, lips parted, his eyes molten with desire. She raises up over his cock, slides just the head inside her, and squeezes her muscles. He groans, his eyes wide, and groans again as she lets him slip back out. “Jesus, Karen,” he pants, his voice strained.

She wraps her hand around his cock and squeezes gently, stroking herself with the head, probing at the edge of her sensitive opening, slipping his head just barely inside her and back out again, and again, while he writhes under her. She takes him back in, a little deeper, and finally starts to thrust down on him, but slowly, taking him deeper with each stroke.

He gasps out her name again, panting for breath, gripping the bedsheets so he won’t try to pull her down on top of him. Her own breath starting to come short, she gives him what he wants. She starts to go harder, faster, taking him in all the way in deep, long strokes. She leans forward again, changing the angle of friction, and suddenly he’s there, orgasm shuddering through him, groaning deep in his throat, his hips bucking up against her. Then he falls back, his cock slipping out of her, utterly spent.

She climbs off and drops to the bed beside him. He strips off the condom, and they lie together, only their hands touching, while their sweat cools and dries and their pounding hearts slow back to normal.

After a few minutes Karen rolls toward him, trailing one hand up his body and kissing his eyebrow. He smiles and slips his arms around her, pulling her close, rubbing his face in her hair. She melts bonelessly against him, sleepy and content.

“Will you stay?” he asks quietly.

“Yes,” she answers, and then grins. “As long as you don’t sleep on the couch this time.”

He laughs, lifting his face out of her hair and stroking her cheek. “All right. Deal.” he says, and kisses her.


End file.
